A Tale of Dragons and Wolves
by celenebloome13
Summary: The tale of Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, the Prince of Dragonstone, and Lyanna Stark.


_**Prologue**_

Rhaegar Targaryen's indigo purple eyes flashed from the clear blue water. The water rippled gently, creating a hesitant wave. He dipped his hands into the cool façade, bracing himself as the blue waters turned into a malevolent shade of black.

 _The prince that was promised_ , the black waters seemed to whisper.

His hands leaped back as visions from the past rushed into his mind. He watched a silver-gold haired boy laugh as he flipped a yellow page. Mountains of scrolls decked his desk, obscuring his face from view. Rhaegar had always liked the papers covering him.

He watched as his younger self, still naive about the world around him, carefully remove a scroll under piles of other yellow pages. He watched as his own lips turned into a frown. His eyebrows furrowed into concentration. He watched as his own familiar hands shake.

 _Born of ice and fire_ . . . a voice echoed. _Ice and fire . . ._

Rhaegar's eyes flickered open. He was sprawled upon the stone floors of his chamber. Again. He hadn't remembered much of the events of last night. Nor did he particularly want to. "A dream," he whispered; although that was a fool's talk. He knew that it was no dream. No mind could create such profound and detailed reminiscences.

He got up from the stone floors, carefully making his way past his mountain of scrolls. He stared out from his window, watching the guards that lined the castle's edge. The city's guards were not some that Rhaegar's trusted. As of matter of fact, the guards that watched over the castle were not some whom he trusted. A frown crossed over his lips: He was turning more and more into his father. H

King Aerys Targaryen, his father was called. But he was whispered another name in the houses of the common people. _Mad King Aerys_ , they whispered. _Madder than all the Targaryens combined_.

A knock on the door shook Rhaegar's attention from his window.

"Your Grace?" a voice called.

Rhaegar's eyes flickered to the wooden doors. A smile crossed over his lips. He was never called "Your Grace" before. It was not a title befitted for a prince.

Walking over, Rhaegar carefully slid open the chamber doors. His father had commanded an increasing amount of times that Rhaegar took servants for his daily needs. A prince, no matter the Prince of Dragonstone, heir to the throne of the Seven Kingdoms, should not appear differential to those who were born to serve him, his father had said.

A plain face stared back at him, a lad no more than fifteen. Perhaps he is a squire, he mused. His outfit fit him no better than the flashing green eyes on his face. "My lord — I mean — Your Grace. I mean — " he swallowed, green eyes flickering nervously. Rhaegar gave him a reassuring smile. Many of the castle guards were common born, and the lad seemed to be newly fitted into his role.

"I always found the titles bothersome," he told the boy. "You may call me Rhaegar."

"I — my lord?" the boy finally attempted. His shoulders drooped. "I'm Sam . . . and . . . I'm rotten at titles. Horrible, in fact. It was mine own mother who told me, yes she did. Said I was never too bright. It's just these words, yes, that's the problem. I'm rotten at words. Mine own mother used to say I prattled on and on about the most useless topics. I — "

"Sam, might I inquire about — " he began.

"Yes! Oh, uh . . . Mad Kin — I mean, pardon, King Aerys requests your presence. At once. Immediately."

Rhaegar's tentative smile slipped off his face. He nodded slowly, carefully. His father had been known to send spies to his son's chamber rooms. It was one of the reasons why Rhaegar refused to take servants.

He strode forward, leaving Sam to hastily scramble after him. The halls of the castle were adorned by majestic depictions of the dragons long lost. They were fearsome creatures, he knew, but there were none left in Westeros nor Essos. Dragon eggs, on the other hand, were plentiful. _For all the good that does_ , he thought sullenly. The eggs might've just been stone for all that it offered. Yes, there were many Targaryens who attempted to bring back the dragons. His own grandfather had even gone so far to inhale wildfire, pyromancers' sorcery, burning down the the pleasure house of Summerhall.

His footsteps echoed through the stone floors until he paused at the entrance to the throne room. A man stood outside, dressed in plain wear. His father changed the servants daily, most likely because of his mistrust.

"His Royal Highness, heir-apparent to the Seven Kingdoms and the Iron Throne, Prince Rhaegar Targaryen!" he announced. The doors opened slowly, creaking and worn down by the years.

Rhaegar walked slowly through the doors, just noticing Sam fidgeting by the colossal doors. His father resided on the Iron Throne, his head laid on his hands lazily. The swords melted down to make the throne did not seem to bother Aerys today. _The Scabbed King_ , some commoners whispered. _Not fit to be king._ Some myths said that the kings who were not fit into their roles were cut and scratched by their own throne. Some even claimed that a Targaryen was murdered by the throne. Rhaegar shivered.

"My son!" Aerys called from the throne. His face was exuberant, happy for once. "Rhaegar, come, come."

He approached cautiously, his soft footsteps echoing through the great throne room. The dragon skulls adorning the walls of the throne room looked on. Meraxes's skull was the smallest of the three once-dreaded dragons. Vhagar hung next to his sibling. Balerion's colossal skull hung directly before the Iron Throne. In the time of Aegon the Conqueror, the dragon was believed to have been able to swallow an ox whole. Two hatchling skulls, no bigger than a mastiff's dog hung across. Another dragon skull, its teeth bared wide open was believed to be three thousand years old.

When he was standing on the steps of the Iron Throne, Aerys embraced him. Rhaegar carefully hid his shock. He could not remember a time when his father showed parental love. Perhaps he had offered some sort of fatherly advice — advice that he believed to be fatherly, anyway.

"Dorne," Aerys said.

"What of it?" Rhaegar asked, curious despite himself.

Aerys placed a hand on his throne, gently probing the sharp edges of the swords. "Princess Elia Martell, sister of the Red Viper and the ruling Prince of Dorne."

He hid his surprise. He had thought that his father would betroth him to a family closer to King's Landing. Perhaps even to Cersei Lannister. As the Hand of the King, Tywin Lannister would expect some sort of reward.

Schooling his voice to hide his surprise, Rhaegar asked, "Marrying outside of the kingdom?"

Aerys looked up sharply. "You have no sister to wed. We have no pure-blooded Valyrian girl lying around, do we? Elia Martell is highborn enough, I suspect. However small and dry Dorne might be, we need the alliance." He sniffed, looking at the guards that watched outside the oaken doors. "Perhaps they would be willing to lend some spare guards. You cannot trust anyone in this castle."

Rhaegar swallowed his hasty respite. "Your Highness, you can rest assured, our guards are leal. Have they given you reason to doubt their loyalty?"

Aerys glared at his son, smashing his hand down on his throne. The spiky edges of the Iron Throne bit hard into Aerys's arm. Scarlet red blood dripped down slowly into a spiral as Aerys twisted his arm for a better look. His eyes narrowed.

Rhaegar jumped back in astonishment. Perhaps the common people were not at fault for their crude nicknames. "Would you like me to call the maester? I am sure they have a poultice for the wound."

Aerys didn't seem to hear him. His other hand touched the blood, hypnotized at the scarlet red blood. Three fat drops of blood fell from his wound, splattering onto the swords etched deep in the throne. Rhaegar watched the fat blood drops as they fell apart as they neared the surface of the throne. Aerys raised his face slowly, age marked into the crevices near his eyes. His purple eyes hung above bags so blue and black. For a moment, Rhaegar wondered if his father was truly mad.

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 _Disclaimer: This is a fanfiction from the series A Song of Ice and Fire. The characters that are written above are not my own nor do I claim ownership._

 _I hope you guys enjoyed that! I'm new to so I'm a bit shaky on the website. I'm hoping to get the next chapter up for you guys as soon as possible. Please review; that would be amazing. Thanks for reading!_


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